“All opposed?” the yard was silent. “Good. Then we have passed the motion to appoint a Pollicle guard. Are there any volunteers?” No one raised a paw. Munkustrap began to explain. “We’ll take shifts, see,” he said. “One cat gets it this week, another next week, and so on. We should get a sign-up sheet and a schedule. Skimbleshanks, can you be in charge of that? I know you’re busy, but you seem to be the most organized of us all.” A murmur of approval arose at this suggestion.
Awakened by the sound of Munkustrap’s voice, Misto peeked his nose out from under the towel, sniffing for his friend Skimble. What he got a whiff of was the pungent odor of many cats all in the same place, their different scents combined into one. He stuck the rest of his head out to see if he could spot Skimble, but there were two or three cats right in front of him and that was all that he could see. He recognized two of them from earlier, the skinny calico and the placid yellow tabby that Skimble was infatuated with. The third was a huge tuxedo cat who held a silver spoon beneath his arm. Misto gasped aloud; could it be Bustopher Jones, the famous cat about town? He immediately wished he’d never woken up, for at the sound of his gasp the two lady cats looked at him sharply.
“Who’s under there?” Jennyanydots hissed under her breath, lifting the towel from over Misto. He hissed back, fluffing up his fur, but the ladies chuckled.
“It’s the kitten from this morning!” Jellylorum said. “Come here, dear, and sit by Jelly.”
Though thoroughly humiliated, Mistoffelees did not want to be rude. He obliged the calico and sat beside her on the grass, peering up at her timidly.
Jennyanydots crooned, “Oh, isn’t he darling! He has the nicest blue eyes.”
“I hear you and Skimble are quite good friends,” Mistoffelees said to her, trying to make conversation. Jennyanydots looked shocked for a moment, and then burst into laughter. She rubbed her face against Misto’s lovingly.
Jellylorum put her arm around Misto and drew him nearer. She began to clean his fur with her rough, pink tongue, and the black kitten purred in delight. He began to think perhaps being a kitten was not such a bad thing after all.
“If there are no more matters of business, the meeting is hereby adjourned,” Munkustrap announced from his perch atop the tire. Mistoffelees flattened his ears against his head in fear; he had been forgotten!
“Just a minute, dearie!” Jennyanydots called out. “We haven’t yet decided about our little friend.” She grabbed Mistoffelees and lifted him over her head so that Munkustrap could see him. An expression of shock crossed Munkustrap’s face.
“How could I have forgotten...” he started, but caught his composure just in time. “Um, yes. The, uh, young kitten needs a guardian, at least until he can fend for himself. Volunteers?”
Several paws went up. Jellylorum’s paw was the first. Alonzo, the black and white cat whom Jellylorum had scolded, volunteered; so did the notorious pair of cat burglars, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, who no doubt wanted the kitten for an accomplice. The only other cat to raise his hand was Bustopher Jones, much to the surprise of the crowd. “I need a caddie,” he explained.
“Not Jellylorum. Not Jellylorum. Not Jellylorum,” Skimbleshanks and Rum Tum Tugger chanted in unison.
“Well, I suppose we’ll have a vote,” Munkustrap said.
“Why won’t he let me decide?” Mistoffelees asked Jellylorum, burying his head in her fur. She sighed and stroked his back.
“We must decide what would be best for you, so that you don’t make a wrong decision. It is Munkustrap’s opinion that the judgment of many is better than the judgment of one,” she replied. Mistoffelees didn’t understand, but nodded anyway.
“All in favor of Alonzo taking charge of Mistoffelees say aye.” Alonzo and his friends, Tumblebrutus and Pouncival, yelled “aye” as loud as their voices allowed. Rum Tum Tugger joined in. In his opinion, even Alonzo was better than Jellylorum. The kitten would be better off learning streetfighting than needlepoint, he thought, and yelled even louder.
“All in favor of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer.” The two hollered “aye” in their harsh cockney accents, but the effect was lost, for no one else joined in.
“Humph,” Rumpleteazer remarked. “Well that’s just fine then. We don’t need that kitten anyhow. If we wants one we can steal one, right, Mungo?” Her partner in crime nodded, but looked sadly at the black kitten. He had always wanted a kitten to teach and play with, and he had his heart set on Mistoffelees. Oh, well, he thought. He’ll always be at the junkyard whenever I feel like visiting him.
“Bustopher Jones.” The fat cat boomed “aye” in his deep baritone. Again all was silent but for the echo of his voice.
“Could we perhaps appoint a caddie for me?” he asked Munkustrap hopefully. “There’s a tournament next week in Pall Mall I was hoping to attend.”
Sighing, Munkustrap looked to Jellylorum. “All in favor of appointing Jellylorum the kitten’s guardian, say aye.” The yard resounded with cries of “aye” and “hear, hear”. Mistoffelees looked happily at Jellylorum, and Skimbleshanks groaned.
After the meeting was officially over and most of the cats had left to return to the junkyard, Skimbleshanks made his way towards Jellylorum and her new kitten. “Jelly,” he said patiently. “Please, whatever you do, don’t spoil him! He must learn to look after himself. One of these days there’ll be no one to watch him, and then...”
She interrupted him. “Skimbleshanks, dear, I appreciate your trying to help, but he’s my kitten now and I’ll do as I darn well please with him! Besides, I’m planning on living a very long time, and as long as I’m around he’ll never have to worry about anything. Come along, Mistoffelees.”
Mistoffelees rubbed his head along Skimble’s flank, and the orange tabby returned the sentiment. “Don’t let her make you a sissy,” Skimble whispered, and Misto nodded and laughed. Then he left his friend’s side for that of his new mother.
“Where exactly are we going?” he asked with a yawn.
“I live in an oven in the junkyard,” she replied. “There are blankets inside, and a few old sofa cushions. It’s quite roomy, but you’re so small you won’t be cramped anyway.” She stopped abruptly and turned to him. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” she said. “I didn’t mean to...”
“That’s all right,” Mistoffelees stopped her. “I am small. And I am a kitten, though I used to think otherwise.”
They walked on in silence. Mistoffelees was about to ask her how much further it would be when he suddenly felt his arms and legs being grasped by hairy paws. He tried to cry out, but his mouth was covered with a strip of fabric. He was dragged away down the street in the dark, unsure of his captors or his destination. His heart thumped in his chest, and he strained his eyes to see Jellylorum. “She doesn’t even know I’m gone!” he though miserably.
He was dragged on for many blocks. After a while he stopped struggling; his captors were too strong, and it only made him tired. Finally they stopped, and he was lifted rudely off the ground and thrown into a sort of box. He hit the back of it hard, and fell to the bottom in a daze. Darkness closed in, and his last thought before unconsciousness was that the darkness was darker even than the night.
“Hey, Macavity! He’s up, what shall we do with him?” Mistoffelees looked out the window and saw that, to his horror, he was in a room full of rats. They were horrible things, covered in black bristly fur and with yellow, rotten teeth sticking out from under wet pink snouts. He meowed in fear and cringed at the back of the box.
A face, worse even than the sight of the rats, appeared at the window. It belonged to the biggest and meanest looking feline Mistoffelees had ever laid eyes on. He was a queer sort of orange red, with white and black stripes. His fur stuck out in every direction; his eyes, green and glowing, were set far back in his head, and two white fangs glistened on his lower lip. He spoke with a snarl and his upper lip curled back to show a row of fine, sharp teeth and expose the rest of the fangs.
“Let’s have a look at him.” The door to the box opened. A huge paw, bigger even than Munkustrap’s and armed with long black claws, came towards Mistoffelees, grasped him around the tail, and pulled him out into the light.
He was being held upside down, and the pain was terrible; he writhed and squirmed and tried to shield his eyes from the brightness of the light. When his eyes had adjusted, he glanced back and got a look at his prison. Mistoffelees had never seen one before, but if he had, he would have known that it was a pet carrier, the kind old women carry their small dogs in to keep them from running away on the train. The little window was so that the dog could look out but not get out.
“You morons,” Macavity muttered, not bothering to raise his voice. The effect was the same as if he had; the rats cowered against the walls of what Mistoffelees had thought to be a room but was really an alley, with the exit blocked off with trash cans. “I said a black cat. He’s got white on him, see?” He flipped Misto over and showed the terrified rats his white tail-tip. “And here. And here.” He poked a rough claw in Misto’s face and chest.
“They ain’t no black cats, boss,” one rat spoke up. “They’s calicos, and they’s tabbies, and they’s Bustopher Jones, but he ain’t all black neither. He’s got more white on him than this’n.”
Macavity growled and stuck Misto under his arm. Too terrified to struggle, he lay there like a limp rag. “We’ll make do with this one,” Macavity said with a dismissive wave of his paw. “Come and help me bend his will.”
The rats followed Macavity down the alleyway into the dark shadowy recesses at the back. There was a rope attached to the handle of a trash can, and Macavity tied a firm knot with it around Misto’s neck. “Is it too tight?” Macavity asked. The kitten nodded. “Good,” came the reply.
Then he and his rat accomplices stood back and watched the kitten. Mistoffelees didn’t know quite what to do, so he stood there and stared back. After this had gone on for a good five minutes, Macavity snarled impatiently, “Well?”
“Well what?” Mistoffelees said, his fright growing to anger. Had they dragged him all this way just to perform for them? What was he supposed to do, dance?
“Get on with the magic,” Macavity said.
“Magic?” came the confused reply.
Macavity growled and advanced on the small kitten, who stood his ground defiantly, though his legs were shaking. “You’re a black cat, right? Well, do some magic!” he said.
“I-I-I’ve never done any b-before,” Mistoffelees said truthfully.
“Aha!” Macavity exclaimed. “I had thought as much. Well, that’s all right. We’ll soon remedy that. Watch him until I return,” he commanded the rats, who advanced with forks and butter knives in a circle around the poor frightened feline. Macavity turned and seemed to melt into the shadows.
“Well, he was right behind me one minute, and the next...” Jellylorum sighed and patted her face with a handkerchief. “I’m worried sick about the poor dear! Where could he have gone?”
“We’ll have to wait until morning to organize a search party,” the other replied, pacing back and forth. “He could be anywhere in the city. Someone could have picked him up, or...” A horrible thought came to him. He tried to brush it away, but it clung to the back of his mind like a cobweb. Actually, it was several thoughts clumped up into one big, frightening image.
“Jelly,” Munkustrap said, his face deepening into a haggard look of worry. “Do you remember Grikspittle?” “That horrible old tom that used to set things on fire?” she shuddered.
“That’s the one. Remember, he could make lightning bolts come out of his paws. He could make things disappear and reappear moments later someplace else.”
“He could make himself disappear, too. Didn’t we banish him from the tribe?”
Munkustrap’s face became a stormy scowl. “He and Grizabella, after she was banished from the tribe, had a kitten. Grizabella couldn’t look after him, and Grikspittle didn’t want to, so he was on his own since birth. Do you think...”
“...Mistoffelees could be that kitten?” Jellylorum finished the thought for him. “Well, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Suppose Grikspittle’s powers are hereditary. Mistoffelees has them, but doesn’t know it,” he gulped, “and Macavity wants them. Grikspittle always was a loner, and he refuses to have anything to do with anyone, Macavity included, but the fiend knows that he could use someone with powers like that.”
“Oh, but Mistoffelees would never turn against us,” Jellylorum said.
“Maybe not,” Munkustrap replied. “But there’s no telling what they’ll do to make him try. There’s not a moment to lose now. Run and get Skimbleshanks!” Jellylorum took off down the street to the railway station, leaving Munkustrap to summon the others.
“Aye, that’s him,” the tom growled in a low, gravely voice. “I’d know him if I saw him anywhere. And you want me to teach him magic?” Macavity nodded, and the tom looked uncertain. “Well, he’s not completely black, but I suppose he could learn.”
Macavity looked impatient. “Oh, just cast a spell over him or something and he can learn the rest by experience.”
The tom peered at the notorious cat. “Well, all right. It’d be faster that way. But it would leave a lot of things out.” He walked up to Mistoffelees, who sat staring as if transfixed. The tom clapped his paws together and a bright beam of light shot out of each of his claws. He fixed one of them on Mistoffelees. “Look at the light, boy,” the tom commanded. Misto tried to resist, but the voice was so compelling and the light so beautiful that he couldn’t help himself. The light fixed itself on the kitten’s eyes and seemed to enter into his body. Mistoffelees rose from the ground and floated in midair for a few seconds, much to the awe of Macavity and his henchmen, before the light shut off and he fell to the ground in an unconscious heap.
“And that’ll do it?” Macavity asked eagerly. “You haven’t killed him, have you?”
“No,” the tom replied. “When he awakes, he should have the ability to use most of his powers. He won’t be able to use them correctly, though.” He frowned. “I still wish you’d have let me teach him. He had the powers all along, but he’d never have known it if I hadn’t helped him out.”
“Can’t you give me the powers too? I mean, with the light and everything.” Macavity was fairly tingling with excitement at the prospect.
The tom shook his head firmly. “It only works with black cats. Now listen to me: Do not overexcite him for a while. Let him rest and come to his senses, then try him out. If I find out you have done otherwise, I’ll roast you alive.” The tom turned to Mistoffelees and stroked his fur tenderly with a dirty paw. “Goodbye, son,” he whispered.
“So long, Grikspittle,” Macavity said without thanking him, for it was not Macavity’s nature to thank others. The black tom looked over his shoulder with mixed emotions and a strange pain in his chest that he had never felt before as he walked slowly out of the alley.
He struggled to his feet and found that he was still bound by the rope. A tingling sensation passed over his body as he looked at the rope with distaste, and he suddenly found that he was free. The rope had broken in two and lay coiled on the ground like an evil snake. He jumped away from it in fear and wonder, and then, keeping close to the shadows by the wall, made his way to the end of the alley.
He tiptoed with extreme caution by the sleeping rats, and thought his heart would stop when, as he passed Macavity, the great villain stretched in his sleep. The trash cans stood like silver metal giants barring the exit. He knew that if he jumped over or through them, they would topple over and bring attention to his escape, but he went for it anyway. Crouching low to the ground, he tensed his muscles and sprang. For a whole, wonderful second, he thought he would clear the cans and get away with no hassle. He was wrong.
He landed with a resounding clang on the lid of one trash can. Immediately he heard the sound of a dozen rats and one angry cat springing to their feet in pursuit. Wasting no time, he leaped to the ground and ran off down the street. His feet were smaller and his legs shorter than Macavity’s, and despite the fact that he had a head start he could hear the villain’s pawsteps echoing on the pavement just behind him. Mistoffelees ran on blindly, unaware of his surroundings until he suddenly collided into something large.
“Oof!” the large beast exclaimed. “Hey! There you are!” Rum Tum Tugger reached down and lifted Mistoffelees by the scruff of the neck just as Macavity caught up with him. The result of this was that Macavity got a firm grip on the kitten’s back legs and Rum Tum Tugger had a firm grip on his front legs.
“Skimble! Help me out!” Skimbleshanks rounded the corner and valiantly pounced upon Macavity, who let go of Misto’s tail. The kitten clambered onto Tugger’s back, where he watched in horrified fascination as Macavity and his henchmen got the better of his beloved friend.
“Skimbleshanks!” Mistoffelees screamed, reaching out to his friend. Tugger grabbed hold of him before he could jump down and injure himself in the brawl. Skimbleshanks rolled around on the ground, hissing and clawing at the rats and Macavity.
Alonzo, who had just arrived, and Munkustrap stood back and waited for the moment when they could jump in and rescue Skimbleshanks. “Why don’t you help him!” Misto screeched at them. “They’ll kill him!” Weakened, the rats were beginning to slacken off, and after a few terrible seconds Skimbleshanks was left with only Macavity to deal with.
The villain circled round the orange tom, his eyes glaring fiercely. Skimbleshanks lay very still, his chest heaving. Suddenly Macavity grabbed Skimble by the neck and placed a razor sharp claw at his throat. “Give me the kitten,” Macavity growled in a low voice. “Otherwise, there’ll be more than one cat to visit the Heaviside Layer this year.”
“Let him go!” Mistoffelees yelled. He stood up on Tugger’s back and raised his paws above his head. At that moment an extraordinary thing happened. Had any humans been about, they would not have been able to believe their eyes. Munkustrap couldn’t believe his; nor could Alonzo or Macavity, for that matter. The Rum Tum Tugger couldn’t see what happened, for Mistoffelees was on his back, and Skimbleshanks’ eyes were closed as if he were asleep or very tired.
A brilliant bolt of blue lightning shot from Mistoffelees’ tiny paws. The ground around Macavity turned white hot, and the villain leaped up as if scalded. He glared at the group of cats for a moment, then turned and ran, followed by the rats.
“Coward!” Mistoffelees called after him. The kitten ran to Skimbleshanks’ side and cradled his head in his lap. The other cats said nothing; there was nothing to say. They simply stared in awe at the kitten who sat breathing heavily with his companion’s head in his lap, the kitten whom they now knew for sure would be able to look after himself.
“He’ll be all right. He’s resting now.” They walked in silence to join Tugger and Alonzo. “We need to talk, Mistoffelees,” Munkustrap said, obviously uncomfortable. “About what happened tonight."
The kitten listened as the three Jellicles explained about his father, the great Grikspittle, and about Grizabella, his mother. “Do you have any questions?” Munkustrap said, laying a comforting paw on Misto’s shoulder.
“Just one.” He stopped walking and looked Munkustrap in the eye. “If my father didn’t want me, then why did he come back? Why did he want me to have his powers?”
Munkustrap shook his head solemnly. “I don’t know,” he said. “I do know that we want you. You will always be cared for if you stay with us. You can live in the junkyard. And there’s no reason to be ashamed of your...”
“Size,” Mistoffelees finished for him. After that, they did not talk. They simply journeyed on, to the junkyard that was their home.
In the shadows behind the four cats, a black tom smiled to himself. “Good luck, son,” he whispered, before vanishing in a gust of wind.
